


Her Body is My Coffin

by prouvaireafterdark



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future, Semi-Public Sex, Sneaking Around, Vaginal Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvaireafterdark/pseuds/prouvaireafterdark
Summary: Gregory is standing in the crowded reception hall, minutes away from watching his baby brother get married, when he feels someone press right up against his side. He doesn’t even need to turn his head to know it’s Isobel—he’d recognize that delicate perfume and the manicured nails digging teasingly into his bicep anywhere.“I want to rip that tux off you with my teeth,” Isobel whispers, her lips so close he can feel her breath puff gently against the shell of his ear.***Five minutes before Michael and Alex's wedding, Isobel and Gregory sneak off for some fun.
Relationships: Isabel Evans/Gregory Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 31
Kudos: 90





	Her Body is My Coffin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostin_space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostin_space/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: 
> 
> _Isobel and Greg sneaking away like 5 minutes before Michael Alex's wedding ceremony to hook up because "I want to rip that tux off you with my teeth" "do it, I dare you" and we need more of them_
> 
> Can also be read as a follow up to [Keep the Home Fires Burning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767179)

Gregory is standing in the crowded reception hall, minutes away from watching his baby brother get married, when he feels someone press right up against his side. He doesn’t even need to turn his head to know it’s Isobel—he’d recognize that delicate perfume and the manicured nails digging teasingly into his bicep anywhere.

“I want to rip that tux off you with my teeth,” Isobel whispers, her lips so close he can feel her breath puff gently against the shell of his ear.

Gregory does look at her then and, _God_ , she’s—she’s fucking _gorgeous._ As Michael’s Best Woman (a title stolen right out from under Max after spending months nudging Michael back in Alex’s direction), her dress is the same flattering shade of dark green as Gregory’s tie, and her elegant updo draws his attention first to her throat and then down the plunging neckline of her dress.

“Do it,” Gregory challenges in a low murmur. “I dare you.”

Even as he says the words, he doesn’t actually expect Isobel to slip her hand into his and start dragging him discreetly toward the staircase leading up to the rooms reserved for the wedding party, but that’s exactly what she does.

“Iz, wait, the wedding’s gonna start in like five minutes,” Gregory says, even as he follows her up the stairs.

“Please,” Isobel scoffs at him. “If you don’t think Michael and Alex are going to be at _least_ ten minutes late to their own wedding because they’re fucking in a dressing room, you don’t know your brother very well.”

“ _My_ brother?” Gregory asks, eyebrows crawling up his forehead. He doesn’t judge, but he’s fairly certain that of the two of them _Alex_ isn’t the one with a salacious reputation.

“You heard me,” she tells him. “Now are you coming or what?”

Gregory is helpless to follow her.

When they reach the landing, Isobel leads him down the hallway on the right. They get all of two steps in that direction before they both hear a sharp moan coming from one of the rooms ahead. Isobel’s face scrunches up in disgust as she quickly turns around, shoving Gregory back toward the hallway that was on their left, but not so quickly that they don’t hear Michael’s desperate, “ _Alex_ ,” on their way out.

“Ugh,” Isobel shivers before looking at him. “You were saying?”

Gregory is pulled into an unoccupied room before he can really respond, but now that he’s alone with Isobel Evans, any thoughts about what unspeakable things his brother might be doing down the hall fly completely out of his head.

They’re in a bathroom, Gregory notices distantly as he catches a new view of the backless dress Isobel is wearing in the large mirror behind her. He’s too taken in by the hungry look on her face to notice much else.

Gregory moves in to kiss her, his hands cradling her face, but she plants her palms firmly against his chest and doesn’t let him come any closer.

“Don’t you dare,” she scolds him, and he must look as bewildered as he feels because her expression softens and she tightens her fingers around the lapels of his tuxedo to draw him closer. “My lipstick will smudge.”

Gregory huffs a laugh and shakes his head, biting his own bottom lip between his teeth.

“Fine,” he decides, letting go of her face to slide his hands down toward her waist. He lifts her up onto the counter and sinks down to his knees. “I won’t kiss your mouth then.”

“Smart boy,” Isobel says, flashing him a grin as she starts hiking up her dress.

Gregory’s hands slip up her legs, enjoying the impossible softness of her skin as more and more of it is revealed. He’s pressing a kiss to her knee when Isobel finally bundles the fabric up around her waist and spreads her thighs for him. She isn’t wearing any underwear.

“Jesus Christ,” Gregory says, swallowing hard as he edges closer, running his palms up the insides of her thighs.

“What?” she asks innocently, reaching down to slide her fingers through her folds, like she doesn’t know how fucking crazy that makes him. He hasn’t even touched her and he can already see how wet she is, the shine of it on her fingers making his mouth water. As if reading his mind, she dips two fingers inside herself, just enough to get them nice and wet, and then presses them against Gregory’s lips.

He opens his mouth obediently for her, eager for a taste as he lets her slip them inside. Her fingers stroke along his tongue on their way to tease the back of this throat, bringing back memories of the other night when she made him suck on her strap before she fucked him with it. His untouched cock aches in his pants at the thought.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says when she pulls her fingers free.

“Not yet, I hope,” she says, hooking her knees around his shoulders, her heels catching on his tuxedo jacket. She slides her other hand into his hair and tugs him closer to her pussy. “You still have so much work to do.”

Gregory takes the hint.

Isobel usually likes him to start by teasing her with sucking kisses on her inner thighs and labia before he even _thinks_ about touching her clit, but they don’t have that kind of time. Instead, he spreads her open with his thumbs and licks a long stripe up her vulva with the flat of his tongue before he seals his mouth over her clit. He slips two fingers inside her as he starts to alternate between sucking gently on her clit and flicking over it with the tip of his tongue.

Isobel moans, her legs locking tighter behind his back to keep him right where she wants him, and when his fingers curl upward against that spot inside her, he hears her cry out a little too loudly, feels her grip on his hair tighten as she grinds herself harder against his face. He licks and sucks at her until he can feel her thighs trembling around his ears, until her slick drips down his fingers where he’s fucking them in and out of her, until Isobel loosens the death grip her thighs have on his head and pushes him away.

Gregory looks up at her dazedly, licking his lips.

“Fuck me,” Isobel orders, pulling him up by his jacket. “Now, come on.”

“Can’t,” Gregory shakes his head, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he stumbles to his feet. His cock gives a disappointed throb. “I don’t have a condom.”

Isobel laughs breathlessly and reaches into her clutch purse. Gregory’s eyes widen when she pulls out a small foil packet.

“You planned this,” Gregory says more than asks. In retrospect, he really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Honey, have you met me? I plan everything,” Isobel quips, ripping open the wrapper. “Now get your dick out before I change my mind.”

Gregory scrambles to obey her, undoing his belt and shoving his pants down a little carelessly as he steps back between Isobel’s thighs. She rolls the condom down his shaft with steady but impatient fingers, and as soon as the head of his cock is nudging against her hole, she digs her heels into the backs of his thighs to urge him on.

He watches his cock sink into her scorching heat, loving the way she opens up for him as he fills her just the way she needs. As much as he’s already worked her over, she still clings tightly to his cock as he draws his hips back and slams them forward, the force of his thrust fucking her further onto the counter.

“More,” Isobel gasps, her beautiful green eyes entirely swallowed up by her pupils, yet not a drop of sweat beading at her hairline. It’s in moments like this that he wonders how he ever thought she was human.

Gregory slides his hand between them and rubs her clit in tight, rough circles as their hips rock together in a hard, fast rhythm. He desperately wants to kiss her, wants to lick into her mouth so she can taste herself on his tongue, but he doesn’t. He clutches at her hips to keep his hands out of her hair and buries his moans into the side of her neck instead, clamping his bottom lip between his teeth when the temptation to nip at her throat grows too strong.

It’s not long before Gregory feels her walls flutter around him as she starts to come with his name on her lips. She whimpers into his ear as he fucks her through it, chasing his own release as well as prolonging hers. He only lasts another handful of thrusts before he digs his fingers into her hips hard enough to bruise and comes into the condom with one final groan.

Isobel gives him barely ten seconds to come down before she nudges the side of his head with her own.

“Come on,” she pants. “We’re gonna be late.”

They clean up in record time and make it downstairs with barely a minute to spare. The crowd of guests is gone, already seated outside and waiting for the ceremony to begin. Only Max, Liz, Sanders, Michael, and the ring bearer—Alex’s exceptionally well-trained beagle—remain, listening for the music to signal their time to head out the double doors and walk down the aisle. From the look of things, Max and Liz are trying to make small talk with Sanders while they wait, but Michael is pacing nervously a ways away from them.

Isobel sighs beside him and Gregory watches her approach Michael with purpose. His curls are a wreck, but that’s nothing new—it’s the hickey peeking out above his collar that really gives away what he and Alex had been up to.

Gregory lets them have a moment alone together, but once the music starts he feels compelled to intrude.

“Thank god the photographers already took pictures,” he hears Isobel huff as she straightens his collar before she starts arranging his curls like she’s done it a thousand times. “You look like you were just mauled by a bear.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one,” Michael shoots back, looking more relaxed than he did a minute ago.

“ _I_ look incredible, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isobel defends herself. Gregory’s hard pressed to disagree.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Michael says, eyeing Gregory with amusement. “Red’s not exactly your color, man.”

Isobel’s head whips around, abandoning Michael’s curls to inspect him. When she finds a smudge of red lipstick on the side of his neck, Gregory stands dutifully still while she licks her thumb and wipes it off for him.

Later, when Michael and Alex are sharing their first dance, Isobel rests her head on Gregory’s shoulder. Gregory puts his arm around her waist, encouraging her to lean more heavily into his side.

“We did good, huh?” she sniffles, dabbing a stray tear with the handkerchief she’s kept close all night. Her eyes don’t stray from where Michael and Alex are holding each other, swaying softly to their song—a new one Alex wrote for Michael after they weathered their first big fight as a couple.

Gregory can’t look away either, the sight of his brother’s happiness warming his heart more than he can say.

“Yeah,” he agrees, kissing the side of her head. “We really did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never really written m/f smut before, but I’m weak for Belmanes and I had to give it a shot, so I hope you liked it!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@prouvaireafterdark!](https://prouvaireafterdark.tumblr.com/)


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